Telling the Untold
by Poseida Lunar
Summary: Draco and Harry are stuck in the Forbidden Forest for a night. Secrets spilled... Bit of fluff, angst. Rated T for mild language.


**Disclaimer: **Nooooooo... I don't own them. I'll never own them...

* * *

"This is your fault!" Draco Malfoy screamed.

"_My_ fault? What the _fuck_ are you talking about? This is entirely _your _fault!" Harry Potter screamed back. His green eyes burned with anger as he stared at his eternal rival. His left hand clutched onto what's left of his Firebolt. Draco's Nimbus two thousand and one lay a few feet behind him, its handle broke.

"You broke my Nimbus two thousand and one!" the Malfoy shouted, his eyes held equal loathing.

"Well, you broke my Firebolt!" Potter shouted back.

Their Quidditch robes were drenched wet with muddy water and covered with dirt. Potter's hair was an even more mess than usual and Draco's hair was soaking wet and brown in some spots that the dirt got stuck onto. Both of their angry, red faces were smudged with mud, but neither of them cared.

"You tried to knock me off my broom, you cheating bastard!" Potter pointed out.

"Nobody told you to head for the Forbidden Forest!"

"That was the fucking Snitch!"

"You're fucking brainless!"

"Then why did you follow me?!"

"What else am I suppose to do?"

Potter only grounded his teeth in response as he death glared Draco. He picked a leaf out from his bird nest of hair and tossed it with anger down to the ground. The leaf only floated gently as it fall, as any leaf would, and settled onto a leaf pile. The-Boy-Who-Lived glared at the piece of leaf as if it's all its fault.

Draco turned around to retrieve his broken and dirty broomstick. He pulled the dangling handle off from the rest of the broom, cursing loudly.

He should have been wise and not to follow stupid Potter into this stupid forest. He should consider himself lucky that he didn't break any bones or get any major injuries during the little fight they had in midair outside of the Quidditch pitch. Both of them had gone after the Snitch, or rather, Draco had gone after Harry who had gone after the Snitch.

Both of them had lost sight of the tiny, golden, winged ball as they flew above the Forbidden Forest. And thus began their fight. In the process, both of them had lost control of their brooms and had fell into the deep and dense forest. It was very obvious that they were nowhere near the edge. Or the castle. Or Hagrid's little hut.

How many hours had passed? One? Two?

Draco had heard no voice calling out for him or Potter. The sun was already setting, creating rather lovely shades of red, orange, and yellow in the sky. Pretty soon, the night dawned upon them, leaving them still in the forest.

Crickets chirped as the flame that Potter had made blazed. The Gryffindor prat had already made a bed of leaves for himself about five feet away from the fire. Potter still clutched the remaining piece of Firebolt, still glaring at Draco. Draco sneered.

"Pray the Monsters of the Dark won't eat you, Potter," he teased.

"You're the one that needs to pray, coward," Potter snapped.

Draco narrowed his eyes and turned his back towards the Boy-Who-Lived. Coward was he? Maybe. But no one dare to call him that to the face.

"How childish," Potter commented. "Turning your back on me. Do you always turn your back on people when you can't beat them? I bet you do. Wait, you already did and not even for the first time."

"Shut the fuck up."

"You're just too ashamed to admit it, Malfoy," Potter said. "I hate cowards like you."

"Love you too, Potty," Draco snarled.

Potter only scowled as he plopped down onto his leaf pile bed, not answering. He lay his Firebolt next to him and drifted into deep slumber. Ten minutes later, Draco could hear tiny snores coming from Potter. The fire crackled in its place in the circle of stones. The crescent moon hung high above them. Crickets continued their chirps.

"Stupid Potter," the Malfoy muttered as he too, began to make a bed for himself, only to find that Potter took most of the leaves at their surrounding area. Draco crossed his arms crossly, and scowled at the brunette in the leaf pile.

Potter looked so content, so peaceful in that pile of dry leaves and dirt. It's not fair.

"You took all the leaves," Draco said to nobody. "Damn you, Potter."

Snore.

"And you snores. You're disgusting. Snoring is a disgusting and bad habit. Do you know that we Malfoys don't snore?" he continued the meaningless conversation as he settled down beside Potter. "Of course not. You don't know the first thing about a Malfoy, or about me.

"You're just so into yourself aren't you?

"Well, you're not as good of a person as you think you are, Potter. You're no hero. You're just a stupid annoying kid. Like me. Only you're so stupid that you're failing Potion." Draco sighed and leaned back his head.

"I know a lot about _you_, don't you know Potter? You should be honored about that. That I even waste time on you." He took a moment to mentally slap himself. "I don't know why am I even talking to you. You're asleep, you can't even hear a thing I said. But this would be the only time that I'll talk to you and you would listen."

Potter mumbled nonsenses in his sleep and turned his head away.

"You're don't want to listen to me even when you're sleeping? Do you really hate me that much? You do hate me don't you?

"Of course that was a stupid question. You hate me. We're suppose to hate each other. That's our job isn't it? We're suppose to be bitter rivals and hate each other to gut till the very end." Draco suddenly found his eyes to be very blurry. "Oh, look what you've done you stupid pothead. You made me cry. And you didn't even apologize for it. This time or any other times." Draco took a long deep breath to calm himself.

"Are you gay Potter?" he spoke on. "I'm gay. I found that out a long time ago in a dressing shop in Diagon Alley when I saw a scrawny, ugly, glasses-wearing kid with green eyes. Do you know what I think of your eyes at that time? I thought that they were green diamonds. Then I found out that there are no such things as green diamonds.

"They're amazing eyes. They really are. You have the only two green diamonds in the world.

"Why didn't you take my hand in the train at that time? We could have been friends. Why didn't you want to be friends with me?"

The fire burned. It's last spark and quickly died out.

"Oh look Potter, the fire's gone," he said. "You're not gay. Do you hate gays? Maybe that's why you hated me so much. Then again, you don't even know that I'm gay. Nobody does.

"It's not fair. You almost get the best things. The best brooms, the best friends, the best praises, the best family. Yet you always say that I'm the one that got it good. Do you think I'm happy with myself? I don't have anything. You're the one that have everything." He paused to sniff his nose. He lifted up a pale hand and wiped away the teardrops rolling down his cheeks.

"Yet you never knew it.

"I don't regret breaking your Firebolt, Potter. Not at all. It served you right the be such an attention-centered prat. You even have prettier eyes than me."

Potter groaned in his sleep.

"I love your eyes," Draco whispered. "Do you like my eyes?"

No answer.

"Probably not. But that's OK. They're ugly eyes aren't they. Maybe that's another reason why you hate me." He sniffed again and wet his dry lips.

"I look ugly to you don't I, Potter. That's why you hate me. No matter how I dresses or how I tried to prepare each morning just for you, you will never like me. Not even one teeny bit.

"I don't want you to hate me, Potter. I don't hate you. I never did."

Silence.

"Oh, what am I saying. Of course I hate you."

More silence.

"...I love you..."

He wiped away the last of his tears from his eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

"Malfoy."

Huh?

"Malfoy."

What?

"Wake up. It's morning."

Draco's eyes blinked open. His back ached like hell and he felt as if he had fell asleep on a bed of nails. He let out a tiny groan.

"DRACO MALFOY!!" a loud voice rang and echoed through the forest. "HARRY POTTER!!"

"I think that's them," Potter said. "You better get up now."

Draco sneered at him and stood up to stretch his stiffed legs.

"POTTER!! MALFOY!!" shouted the voice again.

"HERE!!" Potter shouted back.

"WHERE?!"

"HERE!!"

"Stop shouting, you're hurting my ears," Draco snapped.

"I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!! HOLD ON YOU TWO!!"

"ALRIGHT!!" Potter answered. "He'd be here soon."

"Oh, I heard him," the Malfoy snapped again.

Potter slumped onto the leaf pile that he slept on last night, glaring at Draco. The blond glared back.

"Malfoy?"

"What?"

"..."

"Were you going to say something?"

"Yes, I was."

"Then speak up," Draco snapped impatiently. For a moment of silence, they could hear Hagrid's Axe coming closer and closer, chopping away tree branches.

"I want to tell you that I _do_ like you eyes. A lot."

* * *

So how was it? Should I write a sequel?


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